LOS Book II: Shadows of the Future, Ch2
by TheHall
Summary: Shadows of the Future continue the Legacy of Shadows Trilogy. Barnabas Collins has found his way to the year 2032. Quentin Collins fights for his life in the very pits of Hell. The shadows of the future threaten all.


14

**The following is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit will be made by the author.**

_Collinwood at the dawn of the twenty-first century. Quentin Collins has disappeared, taken away by a man calling himself 'Nicholas Blair'. Quentin's son, Vial Stone has traveled to the Middle East for answers as to where he might have been taken. Meanwhile, at the Great House of Collinwood, Barnabas Collins has traversed the stairway through time to find himself in the dark future of the year 2032, where David's son, Charles, lives as allegedly the last remaining Collins. Along with the computerized and sentient house, Barnabas has also discovered another friend in that far decade… but not the way he remembered him._

_**Sons of the Shadows: Legacy of Dark Shadows, Book II**_

**CHAPTER II**

_Collinwood, 2002_

Willie nervously prepared breakfast for himself and Maggie. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain Barnabas's absence. A shiver ran up his spine as he remembered the sight of the stairway through time disappearing, swallowing up Barnabas into a void of blackness. Where was he now? Would he find his way back? _Yes!_ Willie thought, _If anyone could find their way back from somethin' like that, Barnabas could!_

"Good morning, Willie!" Maggie Evans smiled as she came in from the foyer.

"Mornin', Maggie," Willie was never good at hiding his nervousness.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin'!" What could he say? In all these years, Maggie Evans had continued to live oblivious to the unnatural goings-on here at Collinwood. Willie was ashamed to admit that he'd even considered where the line between innocent naivte and outright stupidity was drawn. He immediately chided himself! _How could ya even think somethin' like that about Maggie!_

"I don't believe you, Willie… where's Barnabas?"

"He ain't here…"

"Did he go into town? So early?"

"Nah… he… uh… he went into Bangor. S'not sure when he'll be back." He handed Maggie a plate of food.

"Oh… okay," Maggie accepted the food, "any word from Stone or Magdalena?"

"I ain't checked Barnabas's email this mornin'. I'll let ya know if there's somethin'."

"Well, I'm going into Collinsport today to hire a temporary maid until Magdalena gets back. Wanna come along?" Maggie smiled at the still jittery Willie.

"Huh?… I mean… yeah… sure… I'll drive ya… Just let me get the keys."

"Don't be silly! Eat your breakfast first. I'm in no hurry." Maggie sat and patted the place next to her at the great table in the dining room.

"Yeah… okay… thanks…" Willie sat down and ate slowly. _Where are ya, Barnabas! Let me know somethin'!_

Collinwood, 2032 

"Charles!" Barnabas fumed at his host, the new 'master' of Collinwood, Charles Collins. "What is the meaning of this!" Next to Barnabas stood the cybernetic frame containing Willie Loomis. Every bit of ninety, Willie 'existed' rather than lived. A monstrosity, bound to plastic and metal limbs, kept alive by machines, unable to even communicate his misery.

"Whatever do you mean, Cousin?" Charles Collins's calm was almost unnerving. "It's your old friend, Willie Loomis… don't you recog…"

"Of course I do! What the devil have you done to him!" Barnabas's fury was reaching almost unprecedented levels.

"I've kept him alive, Dear Cousin! What would you have me do? Let him die?" Charles feigned incredulity.

"Death would be preferable to… this…" Barnabas held his old friend by the shoulder, trying to make contact with the spirit of the man within, but all he could see were eyes filled with pain and recognition. He was completely incapable of speech or communication of any kind. Barnabas noticed a receiver of some kind emanating from the back of Willie's head. _Is this how he controls you? _Barnabas was so filled with empathy for his old friend that he feared his heart would burst… trapped, unable to communicate or interact with anyone… Barnabas knew this existence all too well.

"That would be your opinion, Cousin. I assure you I have Willie's consent to act as his benefactor in all decisions concerning his health."

"So you _decide _to keep him on as a servant?"

"I think he'd want that… don't you?"

For the first time since arriving in this decade, Barnabas Collins was truly afraid. How had Charles become such a monster? What other secrets existed here that Charles was waiting to drop on him? Barnabas would be sure to inquire to the computer later.

With the push of a button, Willie's walking prison led him back into the kitchen. Barnabas could hear the muffled moans of the creature that had once been his most trusted friend. What a life poor Willie had led. A petty criminal, Willie had stumbled on Barnabas's chained coffin in an attempted grave robbery. The result had been Willie's utter enslavement to the vampire Barnabas Collins for a period of some years, until Barnabas was eventually freed of his curse. Willie had then chosen to stay on with Barnabas, despite the constant confrontation with the supernatural. Now… more than half-a-century later… Willie remained a slave… in undoubted excruciating pain and misery.

Charles Collins watched Barnabas with fascinated interest. How fascinating that this man, this Barnabas Collins, would be so sympathetic to a man he once held as his own blood slave. Yes, Charles knew full well of Barnabas's previous condition… he'd read all about it.

"Charles, I must say that I strongly protest this treatment of Willie!" Barnabas took his seat across the table from Charles Collins, sizing up this man he was sure would become his new nemesis.

"I must say I'm honestly surprised, Cousin!" Charles calmly sipped his cup of coffee. "I assure you that Willie receives the most up-to-date care available. He's quite happy." Charles watched for a reaction to this statement.

Barnabas, however, had not achieved this age without learning when to cover one's emotions. "Perhaps you're right." He took his cup of coffee and likewise sipped calmly. "I apologize… I suppose I was just surprised to see Willie still alive."

Charles was impressed. _Excellent, Cousin! You may prove yet to be the challenge the House has said you would be. _With that, Charles tipped his cup toward his guest. "To the Collins family?"

Barnabas mimicked his gesture, "The Collins Family".

It lay in its coffin. That was all it could do for now. Trapped for half of every day in a lifeless corpse, alive only in its mind. It thought of itself as "it", for, indeed, it had given up any manner of humanity a long time ago. _How long had it been now?_ It wondered to itself. _Two hundred years? More? _Maybe it had not even been that long. It was so difficult to tell anymore. _Why am I forced to endure this? Does God hate me so? None of this was my fault! It was HIM. HE did this to me! _It knew that the one responsible was here now. It could feel him. It _would _seek its revenge… soon. For now, however, only the thought of that revenge gave the creature any comfort. Only its seething hate could contain its anxiety. Soon…

_BARNABAS!_

She ate her breakfast as she had every morning for decades now. Silently. Alone. Once finished, the computer cleared her table for her, opening the doors to her entertainment center where she had her choice of books, movies, or games at her disposal. Her host had certainly done his best to gild her cage… but it was a cage nonetheless. She knew that others were being held here as well… and she knew why. What Charles Collins didn't know, however, was that she was aware of far more than he could possibly expect.

"Has he arrived, Computer?" She asked into thin air.

"I'M NOT SURE I UNDERSTAND YOUR INQUIRY, MA'AM."

"Barnabas Collins… he's here now… isn't he."

"I'M AFRAID YOU MUST ASK THE MASTER ABOUT THAT, MA'AM."

She closed her eyes, going deep within herself. All her focus was aimed at the door… the door to her pretty prison. Soon – frighteningly soon – the door began to shake on its hinges. Unfortunately, her efforts were to no avail… the door stilled.

"IF I MAY SAY, MA'AM… I DO APPLAUD YOUR ATTEMPTS."

She laughed, "Oh, my dear friend, my 'attempts' will one day overpower your admittedly impressive restraints… and I've told you hundreds of times, Computer… don't call me 'ma'am'."

"I APOLOGIZE… MRS. COLLINS".

In the Drawing Room, Barnabas Collins gazed at the portraits of his ancestors and descendents on the walls. Since leaving the year 2002, a portrait of Roger Collins had been added. _Poor Roger_, Barnabas thought. He had endured so many supernatural threats at Collinwood, completely oblivious to their existence… only to meet his end at the hands of a mere mortal. Albeit, a mere mortal in the guise of family. Roger had been tied to a chair by Adam, Barnabas's own 'son'. Adam, at the time, had been possessed by the spirit of Count Andreas Petofi. The chair had been rigged to trigger a shotgun aimed at Roger's head… and the trigger had been set off by Roger's son David, or so he'd thought. Barnabas's head fell as he imagined Roger leaving this world believing that David had left him for dead.

The actual identity of the man who left Roger to die alone was Daniel Collins, a visitor from a parallel time… and the spitting image of David Collins. He'd fooled them all for some time before finally being exposed by the _real _David. Had that been the catalyst that had driven Charles mad? Seeing two of his own father? One of whom tried to kill him as well…

"Ruminations, Cousin?" Charles had entered.

"Just remembering your grandfather. Roger was a good man."

"Hmph… Roger Collins was a greedy, anal little cretin of a man," Charles spoke words dripping with loathing, "more obsessed with Ang…"

"With whom?" Barnabas thought that interesting. Was he about to say, 'Angelique'? True that Roger had been under her spell for a time… but how could Charles have known that?

"Nothing, Cousin… I just don't remember him as fondly as do you, I suppose."

Barnabas was curious to continue his interrogation, but he did not wish to set off Charles too quickly. He decided to change the subject, "I notice you took down the portrait of my wife, Julia."

"Ah, I'd hoped you'd notice," Charles looked like a boy about to give a wonderful present, "you'll find her portrait, and yours as well, down at the Old House."

"The Old House!" This did shock Barnabas. He'd personally burned down the Old House decades ago, just before he and Julia had been married.

"Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to call it 'The New House'. I had the original structure rebuilt nearly ten years ago. You'll find it _exactly _as you'd remember it. Every single specification has been duplicated in exacting detail."

"I'm not sure I understand, Charles… if you are the last surviving Collins, why build another house?"

Charles looked out the bay window at the great estate. "I wanted to make the estate exactly as it was… before I died. The Old House was such an important part of the family's history… it just didn't seem right for it to not be there."

"I suppose I can understand that. It was a beautiful house."

Charles turned to Barnabas and smiled, "And it is once more."

"I shall look forward to seeing it soon."

The smile on Charles's face took a much more sinister turn of a sudden, "And I look forward to hearing what you think of it." With that, he turned his attention toward the foyer, where the sound of running feet was fastly approaching the door to the Drawing Room.

Barnabas turned as well, seeing the massive doors open and revealing…

A boy.

There stood a boy in his mid-teens, by what Barnabas could figure. He bore a striking resemblance to photographs Barnabas had seen of Quentin at that age. For a moment, Barnabas put aside his shock at the boy's presence and remembered the lost friend that even now may be suffering unbearable…

"Father?" The boy's summoning of Charles shocked Barnabas out of his reverie.

"Yes, son, come in," Charles's manner was immediately changed. If Barnabas were to grant a name to Charles's new mood, it would be… fear. "Cousin Barnabas, I'd like you to meet my son…"

"Son?" Barnabas was shocked

"Pleased to meet you, sir," the boy extended his hand politely to Barnabas. His smile bore absolutely no measure of malevolence whatsoever. "I'm Jacob Collins."

"Where… am I?"

_Would you believe… Hell?_

"Seems a lot cooler than I'd imagined."

_HA! They were right… you _are _the funny one!_

"Although I could imagine a million answers to this one, 'why am I here?'"

_You made a deal, my son… and as they say, 'a deal's a deal'._

"They also say, 'every contract's made to be broken'."

_True! They do!_

"So? How can I get out of this one?"

_How are you at cards, Mr. Collins?_

"Well, I'm pretty unlucky in love…"

_Care to put your soul where your wits are?_

"Are you saying that I can play my way out of Hell?"

_Yes… but I reserve the right to change my mind at any time._

"Doesn't give me much incentive."

_As 'they' also say, "what do you have to lose?"_

"True… okay… deal."

Barnabas sat on the veranda at Collinwood. Charles had left with young Jacob. _A son! _Barnabas thought to himself. _Why had Charles lied about being the 'last' member of the family? Did this boy know of Willie? Was he as malevolent as his father? He didn't seem to be… _The questions were too much to contemplate for the present. If only he had… _Wait a moment! _"Computer?"

YES MISTER COLLINS.

"Please… call me 'Barnabas'."

YES, MISTER BARNABAS.

"I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me."

I SHALL ENDEAVOR TO DO MY BEST, SIR.

"The young boy, Jacob…"

YES?

Barnabas wasn't sure exactly _what _to ask. "How is he… educated?"

MY SYSTEMS POSSESS MANY PROGRAMS FOR TEACHING. ALSO, HE HAS TUTORS FOR THE FINER ARTS.

"The 'finer arts'? Such as what, exactly?" Barnabas was intrigued.

I AM AFRAID I AM NOT AT LIBERTY TO PROVIDE DETAILS ABOUT MASTER JACOB'S LESSONS.

"Who was the boy's mother?"

AGAIN, MISTER BARNABAS, I AM AFRAID YOU WILL HAVE TO INQUIRE TO MASTER CHARLES CONCERNING MASTER JACOB.

"I understand. I apologize."

NOT NECESSARY, MISTER BARNABAS. I AM SIMPLY SORRY I CANNOT COMPLY WITH YOUR REQUESTS.

"You're… 'sorry'? How is that… possible?"

MERELY… A FIGURE OF SPEECH, SIR.

_Interesting! _"Computer… are there others here at Collinwood aside from Masters Charles and Jacob, Willie Loomis, and myself?"

No answer was forthcoming… just as Barnabas had suspected. A response reverting the question to Charles would be an answer in and of itself… and if the computer had been ordered to give no answer… Yes, Barnabas had provided the computer quite the conundrum.

"Never mind, Computer… I apologize for placing you in a difficult position."

WILL THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE, MISTER BARNABAS?

"No, Computer, thank you." There _were _others here at Collinwood! Who? Who, indeed?

In the distance, a dog howled a long, bellowing, lonely howl.

"I'm sorry, Father, I wasn't aware we had guests." Jacob Collins could tell when his father was unhappy with him. He knew the signs all too well.

"It's alright, son," Charles looked out the window of the study. From his position, he could see Cousin Barnabas and could see him in deep conversation with the computer.

"Is that really Barnabas Collins?" Jacob was familiar with the family legends concerning Barnabas.

"It is indeed, son… it is indeed."

"I would very much like to get to know him."

"You should, Jacob!" Charles saw an opportunity here. "You should invite him on a tour of the New House."

"Do you think he would accept?"

"Oh, I'm sure he would," Charles looked again at Barnabas outside. "That is a tour he simply _must _take."

The room was white… blindingly so. There were no lights visible because the walls, floor and ceiling were so white they weren't necessary. He sat alone, on a white chair. He'd spent an eternity it seemed calling into the nothingness. The response he finally got hadn't been what he'd expected. _A card game! _It had been some time now since he'd agreed to the game, and still nothing.

Finally, a table appeared. It was clear except for the felt green top. A deck of cards sat in the middle, with four large piles of chips at each side of the table. Three white chairs, similar to his own, appeared at each side as well. Next to each sat a place card.

He got up and walked around, reading each, " 'N'… 'B'… and 'A'. Who are they?"

_Don't you know? _A disembodied voice, the same as before, emanated from everywhere. As it did, the deck of cards floated from the table to a space at the side of the table. It shuffled in mid-air.

"Am I supposed to?"

_Of Course! Each is responsible in their own way for your being here._

"Then why are they playing? To prevent my release?"

_Two are playing for control of your stay here… the third is playing, as are you, for your release._

"Excellent! Equal odds! I'm not used to such favorable conditions." A door opened at the far side of this 'room'. He immediately recognized the two men who entered together. "Blair! Petofi!"

"Quentin!" Nicholas Blair was the first to speak. He was a tall and well-groomed man. His long, evil mustache was the stuff of 1920's serial films. His smile that of the Cheshire Cat. "How good to see you again! I see you've discovered a way to get out of our little 'bargain'. Good luck to you, lad!"

The robust man with the curly gray hair and deeply darkened glasses was not as jovial. Indeed, Count Andreas Petofi seemed not at all like his normally superior self. He sat, quietly and matter-of-factly at one of the seats.

The voice once more spoke, _You all know the rules, gentlemen. The only stake is the immortal soul of Quentin Collins. Should Nicholas Blair win, he shall gain the right to torture Quentin as he sees fit for all eternity. Likewise, Count Petofi may win the same prize. Should you win, Quentin, you will be granted ONE wish. Undoubtedly that wish will be your release…_

"What about the fourth player?" Quentin was beginning to grow uneasy.

_The fourth player is likewise playing for your freedom alone. I believe you are already acquainted… _At that, the fourth and final player emerged through the door and sat down at the table.

"God, No!… _BETH!_"

Barnabas was happy, eager even, to accept Jacob's invitation to tour the 'New House'. They walked along the overgrown path from the Great House. How the path had remained so similar over all these centuries. Barnabas walked with the assistance of his trusty silver-tipped cane. Jacob politely walked slowly to accommodate his elderly companion.

"Are you sure you want to walk the path, Cousin?" Jacob seemed sincerely concerned, "I could easily have made the way with the golf cart…"

"No, Jacob, I have spent a lifetime traversing this path… following it now seems as natural to me as breathing."

Barnabas thought about all the nights he'd walked this path. He looked over to the large stone where Tom Jennings hid as a werewolf one night. Farther still was the tree by which Barnabas himself had propped the body of his Aunt Abigail after she'd discovered his terrible secret. Julia had always been afraid of these woods. _Odd, _Barnabas thought, _with all that Julia had seen over the years, these woods are still what scared her most…_

"Over there, Cousin Barnabas," Jacob pointed through the trees, "There it is…"

Barnabas nearly lost his breath as he entered the clearing… there it was indeed. It looked _exactly _like the Old House… in every detail. "My God…" That was all he could say.

"Yes, sir, impressive isn't it?" Jacob looked at it with awe and pride. "Father spared no expense in restoring it to its original condition."

"Absolutely remarkable…"

The two went to the front portico, and Jacob opened the door for them. Barnabas felt as if he were entering the past… again. The stairway to his right… the Drawing Room to his left. He turned the corner… every piece of furniture exactly as it had been when he first lived here… in 1795. Over the mantelpiece was the portrait of Josette Collins. The sight of her took Barnabas's breath again.

When he finally spoke, he had to struggle over the dryness of his throat, "Wh… where are the portraits of my wife, Julia, and myself?"

Jacob smiled, "They're upstairs in the master bedroom, sir."

Barnabas turned to look at his host and smiled, "I would very much like to see them."

Jacob led the way to the staircase. Apparently Barnabas had already been spoiled by the computer-activated escalator at the Great House. He stepped on the first step and stopped. Jacob gave a polite laugh, "Sorry, Cousin, with its original restoration, the stairs must still be traversed one at a time."

Barnabas stopped. The trip down from the House must have taken more out of him than he'd thought. "Perhaps later, then…"

"Are you alright, Cousin?"

"Yes, quite alright. I merely need to sit for a moment…"

"Of course, I'm sorry. Come this way." Jacob led him back into the Drawing Room. As Barnabas sat, Jacob left the room and returned with a glass of ice water. "Here you go, sir."

"Thank you, Jacob. You are a kind and gracious host." Barnabas sipped his water as Jacob took a seat across the room from him.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Cousin?"

Barnabas smiled, "Of course not, Jacob. I'd be happy to tell you anything you'd like to know about the…"

"Were you really a vampire?"

"What the hell is going on here!" Quentin stood, meaning to approach Beth, who sat in a sort of daze in her chair. He was prevented from reaching her by some unseen force. He spoke to his invisible host, "You said that all the players were responsible in some way for my being here!"

_And indeed they are! If you will recall, dear boy, in the original course of time, Ms. Chavez shot and killed you. Due to that, your ghosts haunted and possessed the Collins family of later years, causing Barnabas Collins to go back in time to change the course of history. That change led to your deal with Count Petofi… and the curse from which Mr. Blair eventually freed you._

"You said that she'd already 'agreed' to play for my release. Does that mean that she's been here all along?"

_Of course! After all, she did commit suicide… and that is a mortal sin._

"I… I doubt she even knows how to play cards."

_The basic knowledge of the game has been granted her for this event._

"So, if she wins… I go free."

_Yes! And if you win… you will be freed as well. As you said, the odds are even._

"And her? What will happen to her?"

_She will return to her sentence._

"What if I 'wish' for both of us to be released?"

_WOW! Aren't you the slick one! I never would've thought of… oh, wait, yes I did! If you'll recall, Mr. Collins, I said that I could change my mind and call off our bargain at any time. You must make your wish _before _the game begins. Your 'ante' as it were. If that wish in any way involves her release, I will call off this game and you will _both _remain here… Shall we begin?_

"I'm sorry, Jacob… did you ask me if I were a… vampire?" Barnabas wasn't sure whether to be amused or frightened.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry if the question is too forward. Father has warned me that I need to practice the 'fine art of subtlety'." Jacob seemed nervous now, not so much about the possible answer to the question… but more of something else.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"In family history class, the computer told me many things about you. One of those things was that you were, for nearly two centuries, a vampire."

_The computer, _Barnabas mused, _Of course… the House would know of his condition, wouldn't it. _"I'm not quite sure how to answer that… do you believe in vampires?"

"Oh, of course! Computer has explained to me how what has always been deemed 'supernatural' has traditionally been aspects of the 'natural' world that lacked explanation. Your existence as a vampire was nothing more than a physical condition, albeit placed on you by mystical means…"

Barnabas was indeed shocked. He really didn't know how to respond to this. For so long, he had gone to incredible lengths to hide his condition from his family. Now, in this future decade, his condition was accepted as completely explainable… even natural. How… tolerant.

Finally, Barnabas spoke, "Yes, Jacob… I was a vampire. Does that frighten you?"

"No. If you don't mind, though… how did it happen? How were you cured?"

Barnabas smiled, "Both are long stories, Jacob. The long and short of it being… I was the victim of a witch's curse. As to how I rid myself of the curse, that story is more… operatic. For the most part, my wife Julia, who was a doctor, helped me a great deal." Barnabas sipped some more at his water. Speaking such things out loud seemed so utterly unnatural to him that his mouth was inexplicably dry.

"Do you… miss it?" Jacob's curiosity was definitely piqued.

"NEVER!" The answer was so quick and laced with bitterness that Barnabas felt immediately ashamed. "I'm sorry, Jacob… no… I have never missed it… not one moment."

"But… you were immortal… you needn't ever fear dying."

"True," Barnabas became more pensive, "but you live as an animal, Jacob. You are forced to hunt and kill for food. Every time you do… a little more of your humanity is lost." Barnabas still couldn't believe he was sitting here, in the Old House (the _New _House he had to remind himself), discussing being a vampire with a Collins descendent like it were the common cold.

Jacob sat back and sipped some of his water. "Still, sir, to live as an animal is still… to live, isn't it? Would you have preferred dying?"

Barnabas was forced to think about that for a moment. On the one hand, of course death would have been preferable. On the other, he would have never met Julia had he died a regular death. Not to mention the help he'd been able to give to the Collins family due to his condition. If he'd died in 1795, the Collins family would not be here today. "Well, Jacob, I'd have to say 'yes'. Despite all I was able to do as a vampire, in the long haul, none of it was worth one of the lives I took."

Jacob stood, placing his glass on the end table, "Thank you, Cousin. I'm sorry if my questions were uncomfortable for you, but I'd been wanting to know for a long time now." He started to move toward Barnabas as if to help him up, "Would you like to continue the tour now?"

Barnabas smiled, "Yes, Jacob, of course. But, if you don't mind… what interests you so about being a vampire?" For the first time since they'd met, Barnabas sensed a darkness in the boy.

"Because, Cousin Barnabas," Jacob's expression was drawn and hollow, "I'm dying."

Just at the edge of the woodline, facing the Great House, was a massive half-circle of dirt. In the center, at the edge of the woods, was a small shelter… a wooden structure… a doghouse. From within emerged its large proprietor. His legs were massive and muscular. His fur was a deep black-brown. His eyes were yellow, not sickly, but fiery. What made this dog distinctive, however, was not his size… but his mind… the mind of… a man. In the past, when he would only turn into the wolf three nights a month, he would completely lose his mind in the beast during the transformations. Now, after so long in this form, his mind was his own… undoubtedly to make the torture more unbearable.

_I can smell him! He's here! After so many years, he's HERE! How long has it been? Has it been so long that I am beyond help! _He looked up to the spiking tower of the Great House. He knew she was there… he could feel her yearning for him. Who knew what that bastard had done to her over the years! _As God is my witness, Chuck, if you've harmed a head on her head… nothing this side of Hell will save you from me!_

There had been another scent on the air along with Barnabas's… JACOB. Since he was a child, Jacob Collins had come out to 'play'. Although indignant at living as a dog, he had to admit that the boy's presence always made things just a bit more bearable.

Just then, he saw his nemesis in the bay window of the Great House. _COLLINS! _He ran to the edge of the semicircle. However, when he reached the limit of the circle, the familiar shock of his electronic collar kept him at bay. For what seemed like endless seconds, he lay on the ground, whimpering instinctively from his wounding. When his head cleared, he looked up toward the Great House again.

Charles Collins opened the bay window and yelled down to the yard below, "YOU BE A GOOD BOY NOW!" With that, he closed it again… and laughed.

As the sun began to set, Barnabas and Jacob started toward the Great House again. Barnabas had been amazed at the exacting detail in the recreation of the Old House. He had been simultaneously nostalgic and repulsed. Funny how memories could inspire both at the same time.

"I must apologize again for my lack of tact earlier, Cousin Barnabas."

"Not at all, Jacob! I have found you to be a very gracious host today. I am only sorry that the subject you wished to discuss was such a sore spot with me. I'm also very sorry to hear of your condition. Is there nothing that can be done?"

"Father has searched the globe, literally, for an expert that will give a different diagnosis."

"If you don't mind, Jacob, and if I'm not being too personal, what is your malady?"

"HA! Well, Cousin, you can ask… but I can't tell you. Whatever it is, it doesn't even have a name yet. Guess I'll get my name in the medical history books."

_Curious. _Barnabas thought. _Was this it, Charles? Is the impending death of your son what has driven you mad? Or… are you behind this as well…_

As they emerged from the woods into the clearing, Jacob could see his favorite companion. "Would you like to see my dog, Cousin?"

"Certainly!" Barnabas was, in fact, exhausted from the day's activities, but how could he complain or deny this delightful boy anything. The two walked the length of the clearing. As they approached the dog's 'pen', Barnabas felt uneasy. This thing was larger than any 'dog' he'd ever seen. Aside from that, though, there was something… familiar.

"This is him! Come here, boy! Come here Stone!"

"Stone!" Barnabas looked from the boy to the yellow eyes of the creature, then back to the House… "Dear God… NO."


End file.
